


In every universe, I choose you

by ladygriffyndor



Series: maps that lead to you [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, More tags to be added, bellamy is a potterhead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygriffyndor/pseuds/ladygriffyndor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically I'm going to start putting all of my tumblr Bellarke drabbles here <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Table of Contents

[It's too cliché (I won't say I'm in love)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7668976/chapters/17464774)

 

> “hey thanks for literally saving my life by pushing me out of the way of that car, but now you’re yelling at me bc i was reading and walking and you said i’m too cute to die” au for babe [miasantos_29](http://archiveofourown.org/users/miasantos_29)


	2. It's too cliché (I won't say I'm in love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift for my beautiful [Maria](). 
> 
> “hey thanks for literally saving my life by pushing me out of the way of that car, but now you’re yelling at me bc i was reading and walking and you said i’m too cute to die” au

His first thought when it was over was to question the reality of it all. As far as he knew, every movie, every cheesy book, every story, claimed that when faced with a near death experience your life would flash before your eyes. When he heard the screech of the tires, lifted his face to find the blue car moving towards him, and finally realized that  _ maybe  _ crossing the street without pulling his eyes off his book was not a good idea; that was when his life flashed before his eyes.

Octavia’s newborn fingers closing around his thumb, the sound of a door closing with the knowledge that his father was not coming back that time, Octavia taking her first steps in the dress their mother made her, high school, college, Octavia’s move out day, and the blonde. The blonde had been the last thing he had seen before Bellamy returned his eyes to the printed pages and continued to walk, she was gorgeous and obviously exasperated by the fact he bumped into her while reading.

He blinked, prepared himself to die and closed his eyes, his life flashed before them.

But he didn’t die.

Next thing he knew: he was on the other side of the street, his hands scrapped and all the air pushed out of his lungs.  _ Did I really see my life before my eyes because I was going to die, or because I was conditioned by the cliché?  _ He questioned himself. But before he could find an answer to his philosophical question his train of thought was interrupted by a stranger’s voice.

“––you fucking self-absorbed nerd, you could have  _ died!”  _ She growled at him. 

Bellamy rolled himself over. Another cliché: the blonde’s face was blocking the sun, giving her a sort of ethereal look that had nothing to do with her beauty, or the fact that he had probably hit his head against the sidewalk. 

“Are you okay?” She asked finally, offering him a hand that he took without hesitation. Bellamy lifted himself up and dusted his clothes. 

“I’m fine, thanks for literally saving my life, I guess.” Bellamy looked up from his pants, the blonde was examining him, probably trying to decide if she should call an ambulance or something. “I’m fine, really.”

This time she believed him, and once she wasn’t afraid of him having a contusion anymore there was no stopping her. 

“Well, what the hell were you thinking, Freckles?!” He cowered at her outburst. “Even if you had a death wish, crossing the street with your nose buried in a book is selfish and stupid. Think about that poor driver, he is probably hyperventilating now! And me?! I was  _ this  _ close to see you being smashed to death and you are too cute to die! If you wanted to read that book you could have stayed at hom–– what on earth are you smiling for, you narcissistic twat?!”

Bellamy knew he ought to be scared of the blonde with the amazing lung capacity, but somehow the only part of her speech that stuck on his brain was the part in which she called him ‘too cute to die’. 

“You think I’m cute?”

The glare she shot his way made him cower again.  _ Maybe not the brightest choice of words, Blake.  _

“Is that the only thing you care about?!” She was still yelling, but she soon realized that his stupid smirk was not going anywhere. The blonde glared at him once more before brushing past him, angrily walking away from the scene. “Megalomaniac ass,” she spat. 

“Wait!” Bellamy called after her, but she didn’t so much as slowed her angry pace. He grabbed his book from the sidewalk and jogged to her side, easily catching up thanks to his long legs. “Can I explain myself?” 

The look she threw at him was hardly an invitation to speak but he started talking anyway. 

“You are right, walking and reading at the same time? Not cool, not gonna happen again. Pinky promise.” He could have sworn she almost  _ smiled  _ when he offered her his little finger, but she didn’t take it. “With that being clear, I just want to say that first, I’m very impressed by all the different ways you managed to call me a narcissistic twat.”

“Keep it up, I have more,” she grumbled, but she was obviously warming up to him. He was dying to smile wider, but he knew that would only earn him another clever insult. Instead he walked in front of her, forcing her to stop. 

“And second, I think you are cute too.”

Her cheeks turned a violent red and she looked down, her eyes falling on the beat down book he was holding in his hand. A scowl forming on her face once more.

“Look at that poor book! It came out  _ Sunday  _ and it already looks like it has gone through hell.”

Bellamy chuckled and looked down to his copy of  _ The Cursed Child,  _ sure it was a little beat down but Octavia had gone through it in a night, then she had lent it to Lincoln –– who had a tendency to underline his favorite passages –– and now it was finally on his hands. And Bellamy loved to write little notes on the margins, make the book his. After all  _ he  _ was the one to pay for it, it was  _ his  _ ass the one that sat for hours outside the bookstore before the midnight release. And he only had twelve more hours to finish it before he had to lend it to Miller, hence the whole walking and reading incident. 

“I suppose you are the kind of person that is horrified by dog-ears.”

The look in her eyes was enough to answer. 

He chuckled, and her blue eyes softened. “I’m Clarke.”

“I’m Bellamy, and I’m really sorry about what happened. And about the dog-ears, that was a joke.”

Clarke smiled,  _ finally _ , and his breath was caught in his throat. Another cliché: his heart stuttered as she smiled. Whatever witty line he was about to throw her way was completely erased from his mind. 

“Well, I know how you can make it up for me,” she began, coyly.  Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “You can call me when you finish that book, I’ve been dying to talk with someone about it.”

* * *

 

Miller laughed for hours when Bellamy begged him not to text the number that was scribbled on the title page of the book. But boy, was Clarke worth it. 

  
  



End file.
